The Elder Scrolls Online
by FablePsycho
Summary: Adventurers from all walks of life, heed this call. From every corner darkness grows, and unlikely alliances are forged. Old ambitions are rekindled, and as enemies rise faster then allies, salvation can not come from one hero alone, but from many. (Story follows my Argonian Nightblade Du-Al-Wi-El as the Vestige. Need lead roles for area zone stories. OC's wanted)
1. Prologue: OC origins

**To you dear adventurers of Tamriel,**

 **After seeing absolutely no fanfiction whatsoever on The Elder Scrolls Online, I have taken it upon myself to get the ball rolling. My Argonian character, who will be the main character we follow throughout this story, will be the Vestige. The people and heroes he will meet along the way, will not only include the main NPCs in the storyline for the Ebonheart Pact, but also your characters, whether they be heroes or simple folk met along the journey. These experiences will shape my characters journey, as he will either fight along side them, against them, or even accept contracts, since my Argonian is a part of the dark brotherhood. I'll get into that in his back story. As for whether or not this story will have an ending, I have no idea, as each zone is a story of their own. I am writing this story for fun, as well as for the experiences I shared with others I have fought alongside. Two of these said individuals I shared my adventure with will come into the story in do time, but for now, my character is on my own, unless any who read this are willing to submit their own OC until that very moment. RP wise, my character is not affiliated with either the fighters guild or mages guild. Missions Du-Al will partake depends on the actions of your own characters, no matter their race or affiliation. Du-Al swears no loyalty to the pact, only participating in the main story line if it benefits him in some way. Now with all this said, I share to all of you my OC's appearance and backstory.**

Appearance: Dark feathered hair brushed back with one horn adorned on each side at the back ends of his head. Red eyes with dark pupils. Two sets of spikes are set on both sides at the back of his jawline, with six growing along his snout. He has red warpaint covers his the upper part of his face, and has an angular skull. He's slighly above average height, with dark greenish scales, and has crocodile like scales running from his back, all the way to his tail. His form is a little lithe to the point where you could see the edge of his hip bones (Has a bit of a curve down the waisyline). Not malnourished, but definitely appears to be eating less then he should. Upper torso appears strong, and chest poofs out a bit, but lower torso appears average and slightly longer. Legs are long, hips are wide, and feet are long. Arms are average, hands are average, neck appears strong. Is overall not the perfect speciment, but appears to keep perfect cardio, but could eat a little more for better health.

Character Backstory summary:

Du-Al-Wi-El was an Argonian who lived in Black Marsh during his infant years. He was the eldest of two other egg siblings, whose names, "as well as his own" he can not remember anymore. One day, his village was sacked by the Dunmer. He and his family, which included his mother, father, and younger siblings were enslaved. All this happened at a very young age, so the few memories Du-Al has are all a blur. The slavers who had sacked Du-Al's village, had auctioned each of his family members off. The first to go was his father. The second to be sold off is Du-Al's younger brother, who appeared stronger and healthier then either of his two siblings. The last to be sold off was his mother and sister, leaving Du-Al all alone with the Dunmer who had enslaved his entire village. During this time, Du-Al had been stuck traveling with this group, as he had appeared weak and frail. He did not appear strong like his father and brother, and was thought to give and die the moment he would be subjected to manual labor.

For ten years, Du-Al traveled with this group, performing degrading tasks such as dancing for their entertainment, cleaning up after their messes, and even made their punching bag. Du-Al had been miserable, wishing that someone would purchase him, as to escape this group, but no such luck had been given. His entire childhood into his teenage years had been filled with the worst life had to offer. He began to wish he hadn't existed, and even wished he had been born as something else as he became consumed by depression. He became passive to the beatings, never crying out when hurt, and wishing that this time, they would just kill him. This was until Du-Al was forced to fight and kill his own kind. You see, this group of slavers would sometimes pit the Argonians they captured against one another, and bet on who it would be that won (Think chicken fights). It was also effective in rooting out the weak, to ensure that their customers bought the best products they had in stock. Sometimes, they would go to places of business, and show off their wares to the Dunmer houses of Morrowind.

Du-Al was pitted against two Argonians, one that was only slightly taller then him, and another that looked as if he could tear him in two with his bare hands. Though these two would not fight one another, for they had both come from a village the slavers sacked not too long ago. The two refused to fight, and Du-Al breathed a sigh of relief, until arrows had been pointed in their direction. The three would either fight against one another, or they would all die. The two looked at one another regretfully, and then to Du-Al, deciding they would end him quickly before turning on one another. This act enraged Du-Al, these two had thought him weak, that he would just accept his fate and die. Du-Al expected to die of course, but not by the hands of his own kind. At this moment, Du-Al no longer felt depression and self pity, but a strong will to survive, as well as a hatred for others that dared to think he was below them. In that moment, a red haze began to form around him, until it formed into a weapon. (Assassin's blade skill)

The two Argonians looked on in surprise and shock, not believing in what the frail looking Argonian was. He was a shadowscale, and one that was blessed with the powers of the void, that only Sithis himself could gift to any individual at a time. They stood their ground, readying themselves for a fight, while Du-Al looked at himself in astonishment. The power...it felt so...good. Then he heard it, a voice not so different from his own, instructing him on how it was he could defeat the two that stood before him. Du-Al was skeptical at first, but as he listened to the voice, he realized a scary truth. If he did not listen to it, his life would end right now, but he had no idea how he could even perform what it was asking of him. When the two charged, time seemed to slow, until Du-Al appeared above them in the blink of an eye. (Teleport strike skill) This had allowed him to get the drop on the two. He killed the big one quickly by stabbing the red void blade into his neck, and cut the other ones throat with a quick slash.

The Dunmer that watched had all been silent, until they burst into cheers and rants of anger, all making bids to own Du-Al. That day, Du-Al had finally been sold, and the slavers had earned more gold then any other slave they had auctioned off before. Du-Al had been sold off to a Dunmer house called Drallvel, whose family not only owned a plantation in Morrowind, but also got rich in Argonian fights. Du-Al had spent the last of his teenage years, and most of his early adult life in these fights. Du-Al-Wi-El was his stage name, since his master thought to give him a "proper" Argonian name, do to his ability to take on multiple combatants at the same time. Du-Al always had the element of surprise, for his opponents always underestimated his unimpressive frame. They never saw their ends coming, and Du-Al did not regret a moment of these kills, for it was in these moments he felt the most free. He just loved to kill, who would have guessed.

During his seven year stay at house Drallvel, Du-Al was treated better then any Argonian on the plantation and the fights. The head of the house, Zanuravar Drallvel and his wife Ineere Drallvel, treated him kindly for the most part, but he was still treated as a slave. Du-Al was given his own personal hut, was free to roam the plantation, and was sometimes invited to dinners at their table, to ensure that he always remain strong for the next fight. The son and daughter, Rinryn and Etthise Drallvel, did not share the same view of Du-Al, and thought it unnecessary to pamper the slave. The son Rinryn was considered a sexual deviant, do to rumors of him actually "intermingling" with Argonian slave women. Du-Al eventually found out this truth, as the Argonian slave girl who worked on the plantation and within the house as a maid, had always caught the eye of the son. Etthise was a very reserved woman, never bothering with anyone, unless they suited her needs.

In time Du-Al had befriended the Argonian maid, whose name was Numeeeta, who Rinryn would call Lifts-Her-Tail from the steamy book, "The Lusty Argonian Maid". Despite being a Dunmer, Du-Al had to admit that Rinryn had a good eye, as Numeeeta had been one of the most beautiful Argonian women he had ever seen. Her scales glowed a golden light, and her form was breathtaking, he would have considered being her mate...if his heart was actually interested in finding a mate. He didn't understand why, but the voice within his head would always deny him these desires, until there was nothing but bloodlust. Among many things Du-Al considered important at that time, sex, and companionship seemed trivial and unimportant. Still Numeeeta had been his first true friend, and when he could, he would enjoy her company...even when Rinryn would threaten to kill him.

This all changed though, as one fateful day, Du-Al had defended Etthise from an aggressive suitor. He was from house Dres, and would not take no as an answer. He wished to make Etthise his, and would force himself upon her to ensure this. Du-Al had seen the daughter of his master in trouble, and tackled the suitor to the ground. Du-Al then began to beat the suitor, until Etthise told him to stop. Du-Al looked at her funny, but did as she asked, letting the man go. As he ran, he told Du-Al and Etthise that there would be blood for this, and that they would regret denying him. When he was out of sight, Du-Al turned to Etthise, who had tried to keep her composure, but began to cry as she slunk to the ground. As he approached her, he bent down to her level, and asked her if she was alright. His answer came when she wrapped her arms around him as she cried into his chest. She wasn't alright, and she kept apologizing, though for what he didn't understand. When he asked why, she told him that in the act of protecting her, she may have just killed him. That in sparing that wretch, she hoped that some mercy would be offered, and that his life would be spared.

When the two went to Zanuravar, Etthise had told him everything that happened. He hugged his daughter close, but when he looked to Du-Al, his face contorted into one of anger. He socked Du-Al across the face, and was going to further the beating, but Etthise stood between the two. Zanuravar then yelled at Du-Al, telling him that he was a fool. That Du-Al should have gotten one of the guards, or had come to him so that he could dispatch the wretch. Now the man would come back for blood, because a slave at house Drallvel had dared to raise a hand at a member of another house. Du-Al didn't understand any of this, or why it was he was being punished. He thought he would gain more favor from his master for protecting his daughter, but instead it did the complete opposite. Once Zanuravar had finished cursing him out, he told Du-Al to wait for the man's return, and to face the consequences of his actions. Etthise stared surprised at her father, and chased him back inside the house. Du-Al had no idea what was going on, but he listened and simply waited, until two hours later Zanuravar came back out to him.

He handed Du-Al supplies, a dagger, and bow with a few arrows. He told Du-Al that he no longer had a place at this house, and that he had to run. Du-Al had been confused, until he heard Zanuravar say, "You are no longer my slave." Du-Al didn't think he heard him right, and asked him to repeat what he had just said. Zanuravar looked to him with a serious expression, and told him he had to leave, to run and never look back, less he fall victim to house Dres' wrath. As this happened, Du-Al saw Numeeeta run out to him, crying as she hugged him tightly. Their Du-Al saw the rest looking at him. He saw Rinryn looking at him with disdain, but if he had any threats like he usually had, he kept it to himself. Etthise looked at him with an expression of sorrow and regret, while her mother Ineere smiled sadly as she nodded in thanks to him. When Numeeeta showed no signs of letting go, Zanuravar pulled the two apart, and told Du-Al to run and keep running. Du-Al nodded, and began running in the direction Zanuravar had told him to. He told Du-Al, that if he kept running in that direction, eventually he would reach Black Marsh. Du-Al had no idea what "Black Marash" was, but his maste-former master told him it was his home.

For three days Du-Al ran, fighting off the beasts of the wild, as well as braving the harsh weather of Morrowind. When Du-Al came upon a Dunmer settlement, he had heeded Zanuravar's warning, and kept out of sight. On the fourth day, Du-Al was ambushed, as house Dres riders began to chase him down. (Think lord of the rings with Frodo and Sam) After narrowly escaping the riders, Du-Al found himself in Stonefalls, this was when the voice began to speak to him again. It told him to go to a place called Davon's watch, and that he should seek out a woman named Amelie Crowe beneath the city. Du-Al didn't understand why it was telling him to do this, but the voice never lead him wrong. Deciding to forsake the instructions Zanuravar had told him, Du-Al listened to the voice, it's echoes in his head like that of a father guiding his child. When Du-Al came upon Davon's Watch, the voice told Du-Al to search for a sign around it's walls. This though, stopped Du-Al in his tracks, as that idea seemed rather silly. If he even tried what the voice told him to, someone was bound to spot him for sure. The voice chuckled, and told Du-Al that he had nothing to fear, and to just become one with the shadows.

Du-Al was again confused, asking the voice what it meant. The voice then told Du-Al of another ability he was capable of performing, and all that he need do was concentrate. Du-Al nodded and listened, and tried his hand at this ability the voice spoke of. The first few tries were unsuccessful, but on the seventh try he had succeeded. (Shadow Cloak ability) Once this was accomplished he searched the walls, until he finally came upon the sign he was sure he was looking for. Once he entered this area beneath Davon's Watch, Du-Al saw many wonders he had never known before. There were Argonians and Dunmer of course, but also many other strange people and races he'd never seen before. He saw all manner of man, mer, and beast folk talking, working, and laughing with one another. At that moment, the voice told him to keep focus, and to find Amelie Crowe.

From this point on, Du-Al-Wi-El's story follows the dark brotherhood storyline. During his time in the brotherhood, Du-Al learned and grew as a person. He honed his skills, and learned of why it was he had his powers. He had been one of the few lucky individuals that Sithis had blessed with the powers of the void from the moment of his birth. That he was in fact a shadowscale, and that it was possible that his own biological family kept him from embracing his true destiny. That it was Sithis who lead him here, to his true family and home. From that moment on, Du-Al devoted his life to Sithis and the dark brotherhood, fulfilling contracts with great pleasure, and would sometimes go on the hunt for the Dunmer that had enslaved him so long ago. Though a part of him still did wonder what had happened to his family, so when he got the chance, he'd ask if they knew there whereabouts. When none answered or tried to lie to him, he would slit their throats, and leave them to the hungry beasts of the wilds.

During Du-Al's time in the brotherhood, he met a Dunmer named Valrion (A friends character), who joined the brotherhood. The two did not get along at first, do to Du-Al's silent distrust of the Dunmer race, but because he was the new blood, it was required of Du-Al to show him the ropes. Eventually Valrion grew on Du-Al, and the two became as close as brothers. Though one thing still bothered Du-Al, and it was that Valrion made absolutely no mention of his past or family name. Valrion had known of Du-Al's, but Du-Al knew nothing of his in the four years they had worked together. (Du-Al has been in the brotherhood for five, but it was only a year later after the events of the DLC, that they began to recruit again. So Du-Al is already the silencer, and when he's not on a mission for Speaker Terenous, he's just another member of the dark brotherhood. Doesn't care much for titles.) When Du-Al tries to ask Valrion of his past, the Dunmer refuses to answer any of it, and asks that Du-Al never ponder the answer to the question again.

Du-Al nodded, but refused the answer his friend had given him. Yes, Du-Al abused his abilities from time to time, which allowed him to find out his friends secret. You see, Valrion was transgender, and because of this, his own family disowned him. Du-Al had been shocked upon seeing his friend, he had never imagined that this would be what his friend was like during his regular everyday life. When Du-Al confronted Valrion on this matter, he was hurt and told Du-Al the truth. Once it was all out there, Du-Al expressed his discomfort and disgust toward the kind of life Valrion lead, but it didn't mean Du-Al thought any less of him. That he still considered Valrion his best friend, and brother in arms. Valrion was a little relieved, but also a bit offended. He told Du-Al that there was nothing wrong with the way he lived his life. He felt good, and that that was all that mattered. Du-Al rolled his eyes, and scoffed at the notion. Valrion didn't like this answer, and decided he would get back at Du-Al for talking down to him, and for spying on him.

One day Valrion drugged Du-Al when he invited the Argonian to his home. It was then that night Du-Al woke up in the middle of a party within a forest. In their was all matter of sexual proclivities. Men with women, men with men, women with women, men with women dressed like men, women with men dressed like women, interracial sex. Du-Al had no idea what was going on or how it was he got to an orgy party...or why it was he was dressed in a corset. (Think Franken Furter from The Rocky Horror picture show) When he found Valrion, he was dressed in a green sun dress, with a long flowing main of hair. Du-Al wanted to yell at him, but stares of many people made him both blush and feel awkward. Long story short, Du-Al did enjoy the party...though he didn't partake in any pleasures of the flesh. But he did learn two things that night, that he liked to feel sexy, and that he loved the cute little wood elves and how their strangely shaped eyes peered into his soul. From that moment on, Du-Al just kept any complaints he had about Valrion's life style to himself, knowing that the Dunmer would always bring up that night.

Months later, Du-Al was given a special contract from Speaker Terenous, his target...Mannimarco. Though at the time, Du-Al's ego had been inflated, so he thought nothing of assassinating some pampered elf who seated himself on the ruby thrown. This mistake though, had cost his best friends life. Valrion, not wanting Du-Al to take this contract on alone, decided that he would help the Argonian complete the contract. When their attempt failed, Valrion was killed, and Du-Al was sacrificed to Molag Bal. Leading up to the events that take place in The Elder Scrolls online.

 **So now you all know, and the story is set. If you have your own OC's you believe could add to the story, then write down your characters in a review or PM me. If any of you feel that there are a few questions I left unanswered, don't worry all will be revealed in the story in do time. For now, i hoped you enjoyed this summary on my character, and the peculiar life he's lead.**


	2. Chapter 1: Intro to the pact

Chapter 1: Introduction to the pact.

Sunlight...the warm sunlight was the first thing he felt as he stepped back into the world of Tamriel. The argonian who had just escaped a realm of Oblivion, could not help but bask in the warmth of the light he had spent most of his life trying to avoid. Though as soon as the moment had passed, thoughts of vengeance against the one who had sent him into said realm quickly took place. To say he was just angry would have been an understatement. Mannimarco...the knife eared elf bastard...he had been the one to send him to Coldharbour, the realm of oblivion that belonged to his master Molag Bal, the deadric prince of schemes. It was he the argonian was sent to assassinate. It was he who plunged the knife into his heart. And it was he...who took the life of his best friend.

It was only by pure luck that said argonian had escaped the realm of Molag Bal. Some giant of a nord woman named Lyris, had been the one to release him from his cell. In return, she had asked for his help in rescuing some blind old seer. During the escape, Lyris had sacrificed herself for this blind seer, and with the old man's help, the argonian had finally been delivered from that painful realm of existence...he only wished Valrion had shared the same fate.

"Du-Al-Wi-El," he heard a familiar voice mock. The voice had come from a dunmer, who's entire body was cloaked in dark leather, but who's chest cavity was revealed for all to see...or at least for the argonian to see. "Oh come on, don't pout. I may be dead, but at least you can still hear my voice in your head...though i'm not sure that would be any indication of good mental health." The argonian rolled his eyes, and replied, "It's not, but I did not have much choice did I? Spending days...months...possibly years in that place. I was bound to lose my sanity. I am just grateful I did not lose all of it."

The dunmer chuckled, "Forget losing your sanity, you had practically lost it the moment you joined the dark brotherhood. Honestly, I get how everybody tries to justify the evil they do, but you should know better then to do so. By Sithis Du-Al, you murdered people for a living, and most did not even deserve the fate you dealt them. I should know, I know the guilt that resides in your head, and I know that you know this to be true."

Du-Al sneered at the image of his dead friend, but couldn't help but change his anger to that of acceptance. He knew the manifestation of his mind spoke truth, no sane person could justify the wrong he had done to others for some quick easy coin. Still, there had been those who deserved to die, and he was only too happy to be their executioner. Those had been the ones he had slain in the name of dread father Sithis. He sent those souls to the void, hoping that when his time came, his fellow assassins would welcome him to the void with praise and recognition.

Yet even this death was denied to him, as Mannimarco sacrificed his very soul to the deadric prince of schemes. Another reason to track the elf down, and ensure that he dies a very slow and excruciating death. "Well where to vestige?" the delusion asked. This snapped Du-Al out of thoughts of vengeance against Mannimarco. He didn't like the title...not that he cared for them, but he really didn't like being reminded of his current state. "Do not call me that." the argonian replied, "I am only going along with the blind old man because of his promise to help me kill Mannimarco and reclaim my soul." The delusion frowned, and said, "You do realize that in pursuing your vengeance, you'll likely have to face off against Molag Bal himself, do you not? That means all of his followers, the deadra, and quite possibly the very realm itself. Why, if I hadn't formed from the very consciousness of a madman, I would have figured you as simply that...in fact I'm going to call it now. You my friend are _mad._ "

Du-Al hissed at the delusion of his best friend, indicating that he wanted it to stop talking. "You know it's true," it continued, "you must be truly mad to go up against such forces alone." Du-Al scoffed, and replied, "If you are trying to scare me off this path, your should save your breath. Have you any idea how many people I have killed during my years in the brotherhood? If you had indeed spawned from my very madness, then you should know that performing such a feat is not impossible. If these fools wish to pursue me, then let them. I'll kill them all. Then I'll go after that knife eared necromancer and slit his throat, preferably with his bitch of a deity watching as I do so."

"Excuse me sir, are you alright?" a feminine voice asked suspiciously. Du-Al straightened himself immediately, recognizing the accent of this particular voice. When he turned, he saw a dunmer woman in a guards uniform, speaking to him as if he were about to commit a crime. That's when Du-Al fully realized his surroundings, and mentally slapped himself for not realizing sooner. The strange trees, the ash that came down like snow, the architecture of the buildings themselves. This was Morrowind, land of the dunmer, and he was an argonian...who wasn't bound in chains like the rest of his race in this foul land.

"Oh come now," the delusion of Valrion tried to reassure him, "my people aren't _that_ terrible. I wasn't, and neither was Elam, we can be perfectly reasonable people. Just look at this beast of a woman." The delusion then went behind the guard, and appeared to hug her from behind, his mouth making a disturbing grin from behind his cowl. "I bet she can be reasoned with, as she isn't even scolding you for walking about without a master. Maybe times have changed since our deaths." Du-Al scoffed at the notion, as he highly doubted that in the time he had been confined to Coldharbour, that any change may have happened that would make the dunmer see argonians as their equals.

No, all he had to do was play the dumb slave, and lie his way out of this situation. He already looked the part, as the only items he owned were ripped and ruined fabric he had to scrounge and stitch together during his time in Coldharbour. He answered the woman frightfully, and said, "I-I'm just lost mam. I do not know where I am, a-and have been deemed worthless by my master. He t-told m-me I was bad s-stock, too w-w-weak and diseased ridden to work on his plantation. W-would y-you be willing t-to spare a s-septim?" At this, the eyes behind the dunmer woman's helmet widened in disbelief, and then became saddened. "Oh you poor thing. You've been enslaved this entire time?" she asked worriedly, surprising Du-Al into shock.

"You'd think after the war with the Akaviri, we'd all realize how petty our own hatred and distrust of each other really is." The guard was genuinely saddened by what Du-Al had told her, which only made the process of accepting what was happening right now, even harder to grasp. "Tell you what, if you ever see that master of yours again, you report him to me. I won't tolerate those who think themselves above the law of the pact." the guard said, anger evident in her tone. Du-Al only nodded, as he still could not form words to comprehend everything this woman had just told him.

What the guard had been worried about earlier, seemed to be of little importance, now that she actually saw Du-Al up close. There was still the manner of the argonian speaking to thin air. She figured it would be in everybody's best interest to keep a psychopath off the streets. Still, she was starting to second guess herself, as the argonian in front of her seemed incapable of being such a thing. It was simply a gut feeling that led her to this poor frail man. He looked as if he hadn't eaten in ages, and he both looked and smelled so filthy, even the beggars here in Davon's watch seemed to be living a life of luxury.

Whatever monster was responsible for the tear jerking state of the man before her, must be a real waste of a mother's love. Regardless of what her people, or any other race thought of the argonians, they weren't just simple beasts or savages. Before she chose the life of a simple guard, she had been an adventurer, and fought alongside nords and argonians in the war for the ruby thrown in Cyrodiil. She knew what they were capable of, and of the strength and courage they wielded. She was only glad that the tree races banded together to form the Ebonheart Pact. 'Better allies then enemies.' she often thought, but of course not all would listen to reason.

Of course there were still those among her people who saw the argonians only as slaves, and the nords as their enemies. That needed to change, or else the war would be lost to them all. The guard, wanting to amend for the damage this argonian had suffered do to her own people, had then asked, "D-do you want a place to stay for the time being?" The argonian's expression became dumbstruck, then questioning, and then distrusting. "I'm only asking whether or not you'd want a place to stay for the night? You don't have to come along, but I'd thought you'd want to at least want something to eat and place to lay your head for the night. It's the least I can do for all the suffering my people have caused you."

The argonian's mask of distrust remained present on his face, but he nodded, and gestured for the guard to lead the way. There was a lot he hadn't known about current times, and if this elf's offer was true, then he needed to get caught up in current times. A lot has certainly transpired since his imprisonment in Coldharbour...hell a lot could have happened during his time in service to the dark brotherhood. He saw no harm in accepting this woman's help, her willingness to help came off as genuine, and if it wasn't...well the world wouldn't mind one less elf in it. Maybe once he's squeezed enough information out of this woman, he should pay the secret thieves den beneath this city a visit. He needed to let the others know he was alive...if they were still around. For now, he wanted to know one question. "What is your name?" Du-Al asked. "Felamie," she answered, "Felamie Malvthren."

 **So it appears Du-Al has made his first friend. The guard is another OC of mine, a kind and noble soul that'll play a small role in the chapters to come. As for this first chapter...definitely feels as though it should have been better...eh I'm not good at writing out humble beginnings. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this first chapter**


	3. Chapter 2: Intro to the pact: part 2

Chapter 2: Introduction to the pact: part 2

"Ah, Don't frighten an old man like that." said an old nord. "I didn't mean to scare you, but are you the nord called Riurik?" Du-Al asked, hoping this was indeed the old man he needed to talk to. The old man calmed himself, but then stared peculiarly at Du-Al, as if he were trying to figure something out. Du-Al didn't like this look, it made him uneasy. It was as if the man was trying to remember something about him. This was never good, as most reason anyone would want to even remember Du-Al, was because someone put a price on his head or worse, wanted to mount it on their wall. Being an assassin with his body count, Du-Al had made many enemies, so he made a habit of having to look over his shoulder and sleeping with one eye open.

If Du-Al had done something to this old man, he figured it wouldn't make much sense in waiting for him to remember. When Du-Al was about to make a run out of there, the old man seemed to remember him now, and said, "Ah, you're the argonian Liezl pulled out of the ocean." This stopped Du-Al dead in his tracks, as he asked, "What do you mean? Who's Liezl? And I was pulled from where exactly?" The old man then smiled in relief, and told Du-Al, "Didn't think you were still breathing when they dragged you out of the drink! That had been a week and half ago. You owe a lot to the crew from Bleakrock. A shame they didn't find anyone willing to help. It seems you've been busy, considering that you had been in nothing but rags that time ago."

This only further confused Du-Al, so the argonian asked, "Help with what?" The old nord smiled again, and answered, "Someone named Rana needs aid on Bleakrock. She asked for volunteers, but we've our own problems in Davon's Watch. No one else signed up. Her boatswain Liezl is down by the docks if you want to ask about it. Or you can stay here. Either choice means danger." Bleakrock...this was the place he needed to get to to find his targe-...Felamie's son, Arever Malvthren. "I'll talk to Liezl." Du-Al said, nodding as he took his leave of the old man. "Wait," the old nord spoke, "you were looking for me Riurik, correct? What were you going to ask?"

Du-Al simply smiled, and answered, "You already answered my questions. I thank you for your time." Du-Al then made his way to the docks seeing many people running about. Most were of the races within the Ebonheart Pact, a war faction that consisted of nords, argonians, and dunmer. There were others of different races as well, but the main three of the pact were consistent. Du-Al never would have imagined to see so many of his own kind fight alongside a savage race of men that hated elves, and the very knife eared bigots that enslaved his people. The whole thing just seemed ridiculous and unlikely...until Felamie had told him how and why this pact had been formed in the first place.

 **Flashback**

It had been four days since Felamie had taken Du-Al into her home. The first two were uneventful, as Du-Al had made sure to keep his distance, to both keep his cover and to understand why it was this dunmer had been helping him. "Why don't you just ask?" the delusion of his dead friend asked. "It wouldn't compromise your cover in any way, so why not just ask? It's certainly better than skulking about this house for the answer." The delusion then disappeared, making Du-Al sigh in defeat. He knew his delusion of Valrion was right, and knew that the dunmer's hospitable mood may go at any moment.

Within the four days, Du-Al couldn't make any sense of this...'Ebonheart pact' or this skald king 'Joruun' or even why the nords, the dunmer, and the argoniand had been together. He only old read letters that had been issued to Felamie and her late husband, who had been lost in a 'war' for the ruby throne in Cyrodiil. Of course, this was when Felamie had left her house during the day time to perform her duties as a guard. To her, he was still someone down on his luck from years of abuse and slavery...which was good, but now just seemed...unnecessary.

During Du-Al's time as a slave, he had learned to watch his masters from outside to in. How they schemed, how they acted to pleasurable news, and how they looked when outraged, scared, and even nervous. During his time in the brotherhood though, Du-Al had made a habit of his observations, and sometimes would stalk his targets. Of course, he didn't have to learn anything of his targets, he simply needed to make them dead. Still, Du-Al couldn't help himself, as getting to know his targets seemed to make the thrill of the kill more...fulfilling. He often wondered whether this was his body and mind craving intimacy, or if it was his own cruelty taking pleasure in the act of removing this being, who in his or her own right was unique...to a certain extent.

Most of them would all die the same, cowering, crying, angry, wallowing in their own misery. Few ever fought, and even fewer ever embraced his blade. Those that did, had usually been down to earth, conscious of their own mortality, and genuinely kind to others for it. A majority of these rare individuals were mainly found in the races of men, with only a few cases of them being from the races of mer. Du-Al often wondered if it had been the span of each races life time that would make someone humbled or outraged when death came to claim his due. He wondered what those of his own race felt when it came to the subject. Those he had murdered in those pits, never saw their end coming, as no one had suspected him to possess the powers of the void. No, he never drew out their deaths in suspense, never gave them a moment to figure out that this moment would be their last..but then he pushed these thoughts to the side.

Now was not the time to get lost in his own thoughts, especially on the subject of death. Bottom line was, he could read Felamie, and despite her good nature being genuine, Du-Al could also see that she wanted something from him in return for her kindness. This was fine, as he didn't really like being indebted to anyone, and whatever she had in store for him, would even things out between them. It didn't matter if her kindness was real, she had still helped him when he had finally managed to escape back to Tamriel, with all the pain, soreness, and fatigue finally catching up to him. He hadn't even realized the state of his poor health, until he had been given a bath. This had been the first kindness Felamie had given him the moment they entered her home.

The moment his scales felt the warm comforting water, his body began to shudder and complain, until it settled down and he began to fall asleep in the tub. When he awoke, he saw Felamie scrubbing and washing his chest, her efforts obvious from the dirt, grime, and scales his body had shed. Her face had been stern as she did this, but her movement was considerate and caring. She would scrub hard in some areas, and be gentle in others when she saw that it visibly caused Du-Al pain. Her touch was the most gentle and reassuring he had felt in a very long time. No one, not even Valrion, had ever made him feel so warm and safe. Of course though, this was probably because of his still reluctance to let anyone touch him in anyway that would be considered intimate. He does this for a reason, for the life of an assassin is a dangerous and unsuspecting one.

Many assassins had died for this feeling he now felt. The two that come to mind when he reminds himself of this truth are Mirabelle and Green-Venom-Tongue. Du-Al had learned from them, that to mix this life with that of their own personal lives, would ultimately mean disaster. Mirabelle had died to try and avenge her lost lover, and Green had died to avenge his fallen comrades. When Du-Al had made his choice to be an assassin, he hadn't known what the cost would be, but he honestly didn't mind it. It meant he could dedicate his being to Sithis, and to the group that had shown him his true destiny. Things like companionship became needless...until he met Valrion. It had been a punishment that had introduced Du-Al to the crazy dunmer in the first place.

A failed contract as silencer, that cost the lives of two brotherhood members. Du-Al had to admit, it was his own ego that had gotten the two killed, but at the time he couldn't help but indulge himself. So many successful contracts, so many dead by his blade, so many lives claimed in the name of the dread father...this punishment was meant to teach him humility. That despite his skill and abilities, he wasn't untouchable, and that he himself had once been a simple killer, no more, no less. He wasn't meant to bond with Valrion, but the elf had this way about him. He always made Du-Al laugh, always cared to know whether he was in good health or not, and always set out to prove himself to the dread father. Like Du-Al, the dunmer had mistreated him for being something he simply could not help. In some regard to that, Du-Al couldn't help but relate...but that was all a long time ago.

Right now, he needed to plan his revenge, and he needed as much information on current times as possible. If he was going to figure out a way that any of it could be used to his advantage, then he needed to get moving, and know just how many bodies he'd leave in his wake to make Mannimarco pay. Dressing himself in some peasants clothing Felamie had bought for him, Du-Al set out to find her, all the while feeling naked. It just didn't feel right to go outside without at least a dagger...he felt so exposed. Then Du-Al mentally slapped himself, and Shook off his feelings of insecurity. He may not have had a weapon on him, but it didn't mean he didn't have them. Still, he missed the feel of the blade that had been gifted to him so long ago.

After he died, he wondered what became of it...and quickly dismissed the idea. Du-Al didn't want to think of it as a souvenir the knife eared bastard would use or look upon from time to time. Du-Al swears that if he indeed kept the blade of woe, he would make the elf regret it, and do to the bastard what he had done to him. Which reminded Du-Al...he needed to get in contact with the brotherhood. Maybe once he talked to Felamie, he would pay the little thieves den beneath this city a visit. He could send a message to the brotherhood through there, and tell them of his return. Du-Al then wonders how much has changed, how many of the brotherhood members he knew were still alive, and how they'd all react when they see that he hasn't aged a day since his death. He would find out soon enough, right now he had to speak to Felamie, who had found at the blacksmith's. She looked to be getting repairs for her armor, as she waited patiently for a wood elf, or bosmer as others called them, to fix the damage. Seeing this as the best opportunity, Du-Al greeted Felamie, and said, "We need to talk."

 **Present day**

And on that day he learned of all that he missed. He learned of the Akaviri invaders, of how his race along with the nords and dunmer all banded together to fend them off, and of the war that raged on all sides of Tamriel. It seemed each banner had three races, and each were as ridiculous as this Ebonheart Pact. The bretons and redguards hated the orcs, and the redguards had no respect for the bretons and their way of life. Yet they banded together under some king named Emeric, that had somehow formed this 'Daggerfall Covenant', which should have dispersed the moment such diverse cultures even came in contact with one another. And this 'Aldmeri Dominion', it seemed the altmer finally got off their self righteous asses, and wanted to stake their claim. No doubt they've somehow manipulated the cannibalistic bosmer, and the dumb beast folk that are the khajits. Though he had to hand it to those yellow knife eared bigots and their queen, they somehow mannage to tolerate two of Tamriels most savage races, and try to act as if they thought they were their equals. It made him smile to think that this Ayrenn had to keep a constant fascade, all the while despising that she and her people needed these savages to even stand a chance of winning this war. Oh what a mighty blow it must be to the ego of those yellow knife eared fucks.

Still, the faction his people resided in wasn't exactly a stroke of genius either. The nords hated the dunmer, and the dunmer enslaved the argonians. Such a pact with one another is eventually going to fail. Du-Al doubted that every nord forgot their ancient hatred for elves, and he doubted the dunmer all agreed to the liberation of their slaves. Du-Al even had a feeling that this liberation of his people would only help in the coming storm, that is vengeance against those who have wronged them...it's what he had done. Until then, he still had a job to do and who knows, maybe this war could play out to his advantage. Last Felamie told him, they were naming emperors left and right in Cyrodiil...no maybe that's not such a good idea.

 **So I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter. Two of my friends and their characters have filled the roles for the fighters and mages guild, so those positions have been taken. Anyway, I thank you all for reading, and hope you've enjoyed the cynicism of my character...yeah...he's not a very accepting person...especially when it comes to race. Still, even the most cynical and ignorant of people have chinks in their armor. He can't hate forever, that's a certainty.**


	4. Chapter 3: Boat ride to Bleakrock

Chapter 3: Boat ride to Bleakrock

It had been half a day since Du-Al left the docks of Davon's watch. In this time, he contemplated the message he had picked up before he sought out Riurik. He thought it best to read the letter once he set sail, but now...Du-Al had wished he hadn't. Instead of the 'Glad you're not dead' appraisals Du-Al was expecting, the brotherhood immediately made it clear, that he was not welcomed back among their ranks...or anywhere else for that matter. The letter read:

 _Du-Al-Wi-El, in light of your failure to carry out your last contract, you have lost the title of silencer. Let it be known, that because of your failed attempt, your target has succeeded in the task we had been contracted to stop. Though the war was of no consequence to us, the one who had called upon us to eliminate the king of worms was highly influential. An attack had been lead on our sanctuary, but not just our sanctuary, but on other sanctuaries as well. The contact had sent imperial forces to silence us all, hoping to be rid of any possible loose ends that would indicate him in the plot to eliminate Mannimarco. The letter you sent, as well as one you read now, have switched hands with many couriers to ensure the secrecy of remaining brotherhood sanctuaries that have not yet been discovered. For the time being, the brotherhood is in a state of disrepair, until the forces that are hunting us cease to be. Because of your failure, many brothers and sisters were lost, and those of us that are left are still being hunted. For this, you are no longer welcome among our family, unless you are willing to redeem yourself. You are to succeed where you failed without the help of the brotherhood. You must eliminate Mannimarco to end the threat set upon us by the one who sought our services. While you do this, you are to fulfill any and all contracts we send to you, via courier or otherwise. For this, we have given you back your blade of woe, which we did not regain without loss of life. The blade was found in speaker Terenous' chest, as a message to all of us that returned to the Kvatch sanctuary. He among many others you may have known are either dead or hiding out. If you get the chance, eliminate those who think they can hunt the hunters. BUT, under no circumstances are you to seek vengeance upon the contact. Though the brotherhood wishes his blood be spilled, if he is dead, his orders for our heads will remain. It is for this reason, that contact will remain nameless, in case you should ever run into him by some slim chance of fate. This is your task, do not fail us again._

 _-Speaker Elam Drals_

To say Du-Al was simply angry, would have been an understatement. The glowing red essence of the void erupted from his corneas, to the veins within his face. Every instinct within Du-Al told him to drain all the passengers on the ship of their life force. To kill, maim, torture, and mutilate until the void within himself was sated. Though the rational side of his being, or the personality it had adopted from his grief and insanity, immediately came to him in the shape of his deceased friend. "Don't even think to do it." Valrion scolded, "To do so would be suicide on your part. Do you really think it would be a good idea to kill the people who are transporting us to an island that is so FAR to the North? Bleakrock is practically next to Skyrim, so unless you plan to sail this ship on your own in contested waters, or want to chance swimming in waters that are obviously fatal to your race, I would suggest you keep your temper in check."

Du-Al swiped the blade of woe through his delusion, not even caring that he was actually swiping at air. This action caught the stares of some of the crew, cauing Du-Al to promptly hide his rage before anyone took notice of his powers. Those who had seen him swipe at nothing continued to stare, until Du-Al resigned himself to leaning over the side of the boat, with his back faced to them and his arms clenching at each other in contempt. Everything had fallen apart and it was all his fault. He failed the Valrion, he failed the brotherhood, and worst of all failed the dread father. He did not deserve to be one of Sithis' chosen few, yet the essence of the dread father still flowed through his very veins. Du-Al had always wondered why Sithis had chosen him when he had been a simple slave. He had been too weak to be deserving of freedom and the powers granted to him, and it still seemed to be the case now.

"Oh don't think like that, it's depressing." Valrion mocked, "I'm sure the dread father see's more then you see in yourself. It's not like anyone else can just wield the dark powers you can." "They can.." Du-Al deadpanned in depression. Valrion looked at him as if he were crazy, and then said, "Really? Last I checked, no one teaches this dark sorcery. Further more, you are the only one I've seen actually wield this power." Du-Al rolled his eyes at his delusion, he knew it was simply playing dumb. It wouldn't make sense for something that formed from _**his**_ mind, to not know how the powers that he wielded work. "If you're looking to have me lecture you on the matter of my powers, you can forget it." Du-Al replied defiantly. "I'm not going to entertain you with knowledge you should know already."

"The real Valrion didn't know, so in turn I do not know, and even if I did, could you not just entertain the idea? It's better this then to have you seethe the entire way to Bleakrock, which by the way, is still a great deal away mind you. Plus with the information that had been relayed to you through that letter, I feel it may be necessary to talk about something before your rage afflicts those who are simply trying to get us to our destination." The delusion spoke as a matter of fact. "So please...for the sake of what's left of your sanity, explain the nature of your dark abilities. I understand that there may be others who are 'blessed' with these dark abilities, but I had thought they were bestowed only upon those who have caught the eye of the dread father."

Du-Al hesitated, looked at the delusion of his dead friend, and sighed in resignation. He may as well, since it would keep his mind off the issue that would plague him for days to come. The image of Valrion was right, if he didn't find something to preoccupy his mind, he would likely murder everyone on the ship. He was already tasked with bringing Felamie's son back home safe and sound, a task that would no doubt prove to be complicated in itself. The dunmer had got it into his head to join the pact, in the fight for the ruby thrown, just like his mother and dead father had. It was going to be difficult if he wasn't compliant, and even more so if Du-Al lost his head before he even got to the task at hand. This wasn't the way of a calculated assassin, this wasn't the way of the brotherhood, and this wasn't how Du-Al would handle his first task back in Tamriel. He would carry out this task of repayment the way he had before he had been sacrificed to Coldharbour, with ruthless efficiency and with great cunning and wit.

Du-Al went to the front end of the ship, as to talk to his delusion in privacy. No sense in spooking any of the crew, especially when they were all on edge with a possible ambush from the covenant. No need to make any of them think he was somehow collaborating with the deadric prince of madness. Du-Al stood at the front, as if gazing at the waters ahead, with his delusion standing right beside him. Du-Al took a moment to breath, and said, "You do not need the blessing of Sithis to learn of this dark sorcery and be a nightblade. _**But**_ if you are blessed by Sithis, you become one with the darkness, and this dark art becomes more then just simple magic. It becomes another extension of you, as the void becomes a part of you, both in body and soul." Valrion raised an inquisitive brow, and asked, "Could you collaborate further? Get into specifics possibly? What you told me could mean a many great things, none of which specifies the difference between learning this power or being chosen by Sithis."

Du-Al huffed, and began to think of a way to elaborate what he just said in a simpler manner. "Think of it this way." Du-Al tried again, "Within us there are the building blocks of creation. At the root of it is light and dark, chaos and order, creation and destruction. To be blessed by Sithis, means you can wield this power of destruction, because as we both should know, the void is the absence of light, order, and creation. The void is the end, the domain of Sithis, and why it is the concept of death exists. When Sithis claims you as one of _**his**_ nightblades, our very souls become as black as the void itself because we become beings of the void." "Wait, aren't _**all**_ members of the dark brotherhood beings of the void?" Valrion questioned, earning an eye roll from Du-Al. "You would think so," Du-Al began to answer, "but it is not that simple."

"Remember, though Sithis is a root from where all creation ends, we still have the aedra and the daedra. They too take in the souls of the dead. Whether they are devout followers, or in my case, souls that are sacrificed in their names. That is probably why I ended up in Coldharbour, instead of joining my fellow brothers and sisters of the void. Only by devotion, service, and faith to the dread father does one become a being of the void in death. This is not the case for me, or anyone else given the gift of this dark sorcery. To be a nightblade chosen by Sithis, means that both body and soul are already one with the void. It works almost like...lycanthropy or vampirism. The difference being that one is given the blood of beasts bestowed upon mortals by daedric princes, and the other is bestowed upon mortals by Sithis himself. You could say...that we are him...pieces of the void given consciousness in mortal bodies...his unsung children...though I'm not sure if we are born this way or if Sithis had bestowed upon us his essence at some point in our lives. I could have always had this power, but was never aware of it. Or he could have given me his power when I somehow proved to be of some worth to him. Either way, we are one with the darkness, and because we are one, we grow stronger with the darkness. It is why to me, this heavy armor weighs almost nothing, and why I can sneak in it without detection, despite my frame and stature. Good thing to, since I doubt light armor will give me much protection from the harsh colds of the North."

"The strength and agility I possess are amplified by the void itself. It is how I am capable of teleportation in the blink of an eye, how I can make the very shadows fight by my side, and how it is I can disappear from sight. When I drain someone of their life force, I am taking their very essence into my soul, and sending it to the void." "Another question," Valrion interrupted, "if all this is true, then how do you still have these powers? You don't have a soul at the moment, so how does all this still work?" Du-Al made a sharp toothed smile, and proudly answered, "Because Sithis has claimed me in both soul _**and**_ body. Remember that I said that all creation started with light and dark? Well, with the blessing of Sithis, we are given access and control of the darkness that resides in us all. I still grow stronger, because both body and soul are one with the dread father's design. His very essence flows through my veins, and with each soul I claim in his name, whether I use his gifts or not, I send souls to the void. That is one of the many differences between a nightblade created by Sithis, and one self taught."

Du-Al looked to Valrion, who appeared to be engrossed in the topic. Though he knew that this wasn't the real Valrion, Du-Al couldn't help but feel pride in telling him of his gift. It seemed their little make believe talk was working, and it was this factor that prompted Du-Al to continue in his lecture. "Those who learn of this dark sorcery, are those who seek to manipulate the darkness. They are usually those who hide or work within the shadows, performing dark deeds just to survive or to master an aspect of this world through common magic. They seek to wield this knowledge to gain some false sense that they are masters of the darkness and all that dwell in it. They have no idea of the archaic power they've stumbled upon. It is why for them, the process of mastering these powers is more difficult. Those blessed by Sithis are given the knowledge of how to draw power from the void, while those who learn of it must master the darkness within. If one is of dominant will, and can master the darkness, then they can wield it. Though they do not grow stronger like those who are chosen by Sithis. The individuals merely use the void, like they would any spell. These individuals use these sacred abilities as mere tools to simply enhance themselves, but we who are blessed by the dread father know the truth. We have realized that the void is simply part of who we are. We are one with the void, we bleed it's very essence. They are not."

Valrion nodded, listening in to every word as if he would actually endeavor to learn these secrets himself. Du-Al merely laughed at the delusion, making it smile in satisfaction, as it said, "See, don't you feel so much better?" Du-Al could only nod, the sting of the note still weighed heavy on his heart, but he couldn't help indulging his own mind. "Just one last question. How did you learn of all this? What makes you so sure that none of this is just a product of some zealous mind?" If Du-Al was capable of cocking a brow, he would have done so in an annoyed expression. "You already asked me what it means to be a nightblade chosen by Sithis. Why should I entertain you by answering anymore questions? You have already succeeded in calming me down, what's the point of you asking now?"

Valrion smiled, and answered, "Because I want to know if you're telling the truth, I like talking to you, and we have an audience to entertain. Best not to make them bored by simply waiting to get to Bleakrock." Du-Al had no idea what the delusion was talking about, or what it meant by audience, but it spoke with an air of amusement. As if it were a being capable of mocking him in disbelief. To silence this irritating delusion, Du-Al asked, "Remember when you told me I had to get out more? That there was a life outside the brotherhood and the sanctuary?" The delusion immediately went silent, all signs of amusement and fun drained from it's face. "I thought not." Du-Al mocked it, "Even the real you never understood why it was I never made a life outside the sanctuary. Well let me tell you, I was not some simple minded slave waiting on his masters next orders."

"No...during my first years of service in the brotherhood, I became more then the simple minded beast I had once been. Much of the skills I have acquired were taught to me by my family. Tanek and Astara taught me how to effectively fight with swords, axes, and maces. Kor and Hildegard taught me how to hunt prey, as well as how to read and write. Mirabelle taught me how to act, to have my target come to me through diplomacy. Green-Venom-Tongue and Remains-Silent taught me how to better sneak up on my prey, built up my agility, and how to make effective poisons. And Nevusa was the one that found the books and tomes I had studied on my gifts. These books taught me much of the nature of this world, and the significance of knowing I had been one of those chosen by the dread father to spread his darkness. I had everything I needed, a family, a purpose to live by, and the knowledge of my own existence in the grand design of this world."

"Not everything," the delusion corrected, "you never truly lived your life. You have spent much of it trying to be better then the beast your former slavers made you out to be. You don't know what it's like to share an intimate moment with a lover. You don't know what it's like to create something with pride. You don't know how to enjoy the world around you, and to be witness to it's beauty. You've never done anything for yourself. All you've done has been to appease powers that have been or are greater then yours." Du-Al didn't respond, but just looked at the image of his dead friend with a mock expression. "Beauty you say." Du-Al replied calmly, "This beautiful world you speak of is now at war, while a daedric prince threatens all existence. This beautiful world has killed many of those I considered family. This beautiful world is filled with people who hurt enslave others. This beautiful world...denied me my true destiny, and I was forced to endure the hardships that had befallen many of my people. It is because of this world, I do not wish to know a lovers _**intimacy**_ , as those who had enslaved me have ruined this simple pleasure." Du-Al finished, his voice quaking with rage and hurt.

The conversation had brought up terrible memories of a certain dunmer woman. Of how she would mock his disgustingly sleek and serpent like stature. Making him ashamed of his own body, and punishing him for even looking at women, and not just his own kind either. Oh yes...she paid dearly when Du-Al had found her years later...raising a family no less. He remembered how she begged...how he bent her over and...the fire that would soon consume her and the family he said he would spare. No point in leaving witnesses...they had seen his face, and would have no doubt cause as much suffering to argonians as their mother had. He killed them all, her husband who had been forced to watch, and her three children. 'Two girls and boy.' Du-Al remembered, only to shut out the painful memory. What he had thought would have been a pleasurable death, became something that would haunt him in his nightmares. Even in Coldharbour, it seemed he could not escape them...their screams filled the cage he had been locked in.

He turned away from his delusion, and away from the setting sun before him. His head hung low as he made his way to his temporary cabin, not wanting to look upon the face of any other being. He was afraid they would somehow see the dark essence that dwells within him by simply looking in his eyes. To make matters worse, he remembered that it wasn't likely, as eyes were the gateway to the soul...which he currently lacked. This only quickened his pace, and caused his void essence to take form on his face, which now seemed to be working it's way down his neck. The news he had received, the resurfacing of horrible memories, the meaninglessness his existence had felt like. All of it came to him like the lash of his former captors, it's sting could still be felt in the scars that had been left in their place. The moment he reached his cabin, Du-Al laid himself in the petal position, and faced the wall to hide the shame and guilt he felt. This would be the last time he indulged in conversations with the thing that mocked the very memory of his dead best friend.

 **Later that night**

Canons could be heard, causing Du-Al to roll out of bed with sword and dagger ready. He saw members of the crew running out of their cabins to assist in what sounded like a fight happening above. Du-Al did the same, and followed them, only to see the crew and these blue uniformed men and women attacking the ship. Most of them looked to be redguard, others were bretons, and few looked to be orcs. With all this in mind, Du-Al quickly deduced that this was a daggerfall covenant naval assault, and that they were attacking a pact ship. Du-Al should have known this war would have made matters more complicated then they had to be. 'Oh well,' Du-Al thought with reluctance, 'I suppose now is a good a time as any to get back into shape.' Though he wished he could have done so when the risks weren't so great.

 **If your all wondering if the nightblade bit was true, wellllll...it's a theory I've concocted. We've had the nightblade class in other Elder Scrolls games, but none with the dark abilities we have now. They don't appear to be powers granted by any deadra, but rather powers simply used to spread death, hide in the shadows, and set events in motion. With no deadric connections made to these powers, I simply came to the conclusion that this was void magic, which grow stronger during times of great conflict, change, and death. Sithis is the conscious form of Padomey, who joined with Anu to create the universe which The Elder Scrolls resides in. Check it out, and you'll see how this theory came to be. Other then that, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and to all my fellow nightblades...NIGHTBLADES RULE. HAIL SITHIS.**


End file.
